Not Gay
by MistsofMyMind
Summary: John Watson is convinced he's not gay. Scratch that, he's certain of it. And yet, Sherlock Holmes has returned into his life and suddenly he begins to question that. Johnlock. ONESHOT! Birthday present for FireBurnsBrighter.


_**A/N: FireBurnsBrighter's birthday present, well, along with the bathbombs. HAPPY FRICKIN' BIRTHDAY!**_

I am not gay. I am not gay. _I am not gay!_ I don't get it. Every single bloody person I see thinks that I'm with Sherlock. That I have a crush on Sherlock. That Sherlock Holmes is 'perfect' for me. Sherlock bloody Holmes! Even if I _was _gay... which I'm not... I would have better taste! I wouldn't want the most asexual man on the planet as a boyfriend. He's _so _not my type. Not that I have a male type. Of course not. Because it's guys. I'm not into guys. I'm into girls. _I am._

Honest.

Well, I think so.

See, all this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been met in the park by my old army friend, and moved in with Sherlock. That sounds bad, like I have regrets. I have to emphasize the fact that I don't have any regrets, hell no, before Sherlock my life was empty and boring (although I didn't shoot walls to attempt to alleviate that boredom). The only issue is the confusion. Before now, specifically today, I had no confusion over my sexuality. And then he comes back into my life, after playing dead for _three years_ and makes me confused. After the punching, the swearing and the yelling, it inevitably led to a hug. Because even though he pretended to jump off of a building and left me with so much heartache, so much I wished I'd said. Now he's back. He's sitting in front of me. And for an hour now, I've been thinking about that damn hug. And now I'm confused, like a hormonal teenager, about my sexuality.

But I'm not gay.

I'm not.

Maybe I'm bisexual?

I frown and shake me head. Surely not. I was gay or straight, I was sure of that much.

"Sherlock, I need a deduction," I tell him, and he turns to look at me.

"Yes?" he asks, a little surprised, probably because this is the first time I've spoken to him since _The Hug. _

_"_Am I gay?" I ask him, and much to my surprise, he begins to laugh.

"You're just getting this?" he asks between laughs, and I frown.

"What the hell do you mean?" I say, looking at him with disbelief.

"Yes, John. You have been gay since the day we met," he laughs, and my breathing stops. I've _always_ been gay? But I've had girlfriends... not that they ever lasted long. Maybe that was the reason I was gay, and Sherlock was surprised I'd only just noticed?

"What brought that on anyway?" he asks, and I'm stumped. What am I supposed to do? Confess my attraction? Leave him in the dark? I can't do either. I know it. But I had to do one! Confess my attraction was a choice that would be difficult but somewhat more practical to pursue, and yet I couldn't, I just couldn't. It was wrong to confess one's love to another when one only found out one was gay

I spend too much time with Mycroft. I was referring to myself as 'one'. Next thing you know I'll be working for the government and being the Queen. No, I think I'll stick with my Holmes brother. Mycroft appears to be getting close to Lestrade anyway. Which was weird. Because Lestrade is still married. _Technically. _Though he's going through a divorce.

I've decided.

"Sherlock?" I say, looking him in the eye. He turns to me.

"John?" he asks.

I wonder what I'll say. I could say 'I'm Sherlocked."

No, that's too Irene. Or Shirene. If I'm giving them a couple name.

Sickening.

It disgusts me. Which is a bad sign.

No, I've already faced my feelings. I need to act on them.

"What is it, John? I'm quickly becoming bored with this non-conversation," he informs me, and I turn. God, I missed him.

"I love you," I admit. There, out in the open.

"John, I've told you before. Not my area," he says, and I walk dejectedly toward my room. I admitted it. He doesn't love me. Sherlock...

"But it could be..." comes his voice. He sweeps me into his arms, and I know this is where I want to be. Where I'm meant to be.

Our lips meet.


End file.
